


Won't You Fly

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Balcony Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Exhibitionism, F/M, Mind Control, Nonverbal Communication, Possessive Sex, Teasing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27901684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Papa guides you out to the church’s terrace to take your body and mind for his own.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus I/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Won't You Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Requested through that one site, Koptic-Fibrosis. Inquire about yours on my tumblr, @kissthegoghuleh.

You hadn't seen your Papa around much these past few days. His ghouls had informed you he'd been working harder than usual, and it made you worry for him. Was someone looking after him? Was he eating enough? Sleeping? His ghouls assured you everything was attended to, but that didn't make you miss him any less.

Walking down the corridors of the Abbey’s south wing today, you can’t help but wish Papa was beside you, holding your hand. His vestments would hide this show of intimacy from view, but the two of you would feel the warmth of one another's touch. Papa always seemed to have warm hands. It was strange, since he claimed they got so cold at night, but it was befitting of him. He was the warmest person you knew beneath that intimidating exterior.

Just as you're about to cross toward the chapel for the midday prayer the Cardinal would be leading, you feel that familiar tickle at the back of your mind.

_Dolce mia._

You look behind you. The voice sounds a bit like Papa's, you can’t be sure. He’s nowhere to be found. Is he calling to you from some dark corner? Not that you can see. The voice inside your mind comes to you again.

_Dolce, can you hear your Papa?_

You blink. On the backs of your eyelids you see his face, lit from below like some pale demon. His eye gleams dangerously. You almost lose yourself in that gaze, eyelids frozen shut, but feel him pull you forward as if he's leading you by the hand.

_The terrace, dolce. You will come to me there. I am waiting._

Your lips part in anticipation as you follow the white eye guiding you where you know he's waiting patiently. Another blink, and you get flashes of what awaits you. You feel hands around your hips, feel the cold stone of a railing pushing into your stomach as Papa huffs behind you. Your tongue comes out to dance across your bottom lip, smirking to yourself at the images those around you couldn't see. 

Your Papa had used mind control on you before, but sparingly. It wasn’t something he liked to do very much, taking over your mind and bending you to his will, but when he did, it always ended in something quite memorable. Once, he had teased you with it during a sermon his brother was giving—making you touch yourself in the back of the chapel in one of the pews alone, controlling your touch like his own. Every time you would blink, you would see the flash of his moon white eye and fall further under his spell. You shiver at the thought, and suddenly crave Papa’s hands on you. Not far to go, the essence in your mind seems to assure you.

When you do get to the balcony, you’re rewarded with a rush of affection. Papa’s standing in his robes, overlooking the courtyard filled with people out today. The foliage below had begun to take on the colours of the season; it was beautiful. Papa tended to the flowers and herbs himself in his retirement, and always enjoyed admiring the specimens he so lovingly planted.

"You found me," Papa says playfully. Reaching forward and snuggling into his open arms, you smile.

"I followed the sound of your voice."

"Good ghuleh." He pats your back, but his free hand slides lower. Your breath hitches.

“You called me for a reason?”

"Mmm. I have wanted you badly these past few days." He gives you a gentle squeeze, and you feel your face heating up.

"Papa... people are watching." He turns to look out into the gardens below. 

"I don't see anybody's faces upturned. Do you?" 

"Well, no. But they could catch sight..." Even as you protest, you start to part your legs for him. He exhales. 

"Let them look," Papa rasps, his touch feather light over where you need him most. "I need you, ghuleh.” You sigh from the deep, soft rumble of his familiar voice, pushing his hand away at the last moment. He stirs at this, breath coming out ragged. “It is frowned upon to keep a Papa waiting, you know this." You can tell that he's teasing, but the desire in those piercing eyes is evident. Lulled by the reassurance of Papa's voice and aroused by the hands on your hips, deprived and searching, you allow the eldest Emeritus to turn you around and bend you just slightly over the balcony railing. He covers your backside with his red and black chasuble as you spread your hands out on either side and grip the stone to keep yourself steady. Papa's strong hands come to envelop yours where they're braced against the stone railing, holding them in his larger ones as he presses the head of his cock flush against your backside. You’re surprised to feel him like this, so ready; he must have started before you found him. 

The image of Papa so debauched and needy that he had to summon you fills your mind. He just couldn't wait-- he had to start stroking himself out here, thinking of you. He would have started with a slow jerk under his robes, hand hidden. His expression would have been like stone but body language sweeping, passionate as when he’s on performing as he weaved his own introduction to today’s pleasure. Like those of his bloodline, he has no shame and no issue with public displays of lust and lasciviousness, and when his poker face inevitably fell, he most likely let his lips drop open, tilting his head to the sky and imagining you with the sensations he brought upon his cock.

"You see the people below?" Papa whispers in your ear. "Oblivious to the act taking place above them. Does it excite you, ghuleh? That they could look up at any moment, and see you claimed by your Papa? And what if we made a mess...? A few drops over the side..." You whimper, and he brings his hand up to cover your mouth. "Shhh, little bird. You wouldn't want them to hear us, hm?" You moan against his hand, and he exhales heavily. "Or perhaps you would." He presses a soft kiss to the side of your head. "Do I take it as a challenge to get you to sing louder than you have before, little one?" You shudder. _If someone did see you, everyone would know of your tryst with the eldest Emeritus brother... and they'd know how easily you come undone for him._

"Yes, they would know," he chuckles, probing into your mind. "They would know you are weak for your Papa. So needy, to let me take you in a place as sensational as this. But we sinners do nothing if not indulge, si? So, indulge." He rocks his hips in by an inch tantalizingly slow, and you fight not to push back onto his cock. You want to make him proud— give him a reason to reward you. "Always one to talk. Don't you have something to say now?" he whispers. Your knuckles whiten where they grip the balcony railing tighter. You stammer out a reply.

"Thank you, Papa." His deep chuckle once again sends vibrations through your back from his chest. He reaches up to gently stroke a finger beneath your chin, affectionately.

"I didn't mean that, dolce. But it is appreciated." Again, he rocks in, inhaling and sighing out a breath. "How long can I get you to last like this? How wet would this cunt become for me?"

"Please," you murmur, "Papa..."

"Ah, you protest this idea?" he asks. "I must admit, I do not find it ultimately the most gratifying option. But I am a master of my domain, dolce mia. I am patient, you know this; I can wait forever.” You let out a petulant moan, surprised at how loud it is. One person below looks around, but doesn't think to look up thankfully. You let out a nervous breath, reaching up to bite your fist, and Papa grips your shoulder with one hand, the other still enveloping yours against the railing. "When it comes to patience however, you are my weakness. Besides... waiting is a game for the young." Before you have time to regulate your breathing, he sinks just a bit deeper inside. His hand holds you steady, grip tightening slightly as you overwhelm his length and grunt softly at the stretch. Finally he moves again, and fills you to the hilt.

"Oh," you breathe. "Papa, I’m... so full." He lets out a soft grunt, staying put. You clench around him, but still, he doesn't give you the satisfaction of moving. Soon, the ache in your core builds to not only frustrate you, but irritate as well. "Will you _please_ move?" you beg with the softest of whines.

"You will have to ask again, louder," Primo tells you. "You know, with my hearing being what it is." You curse the teasing lilt in his voice, and try not to raise your voice too loud.

"Please. Please, take me sir."

"Louder, dolce. And do not drop the formalities."

You moan, and a couple more people down below start to turn their heads and look around. Papa sees; that's when he begins to fuck you properly, thrusting in perfectly and making you blurt out a sound of delight.

"Papa! Sir, please!" Like a heavy mist inside your mind, you feel his essence take control of you again.

_I see you like me to take you rough._

You don’t have to answer in the affirmative; he knows by the clench of your pussy around him, how you seem to slick him up just a bit more each thrust.

_How does it feel, ghuleh? How does it feel to have your Papa inside you like this? Not only in body, but in mind?_

You whimper, and start to feel him use this control to his advantage. Your hips grind back perfectly, eliciting a groan from him.

_I have you completely. You are at my mercy. The power I hold over you is absolute._

“Oh,” you breathe. He gives a sharp thrust as you desperately try to stifle your cry, and he wraps his arms around your middle. He’s right; the power he holds over you is beyond arousing. He knows how to push all your buttons, where to pound himself in and how deep to take you. Soon you’re melting back into him, gasping his name in a frantic attempt to urge him on faster, coercion you know he won’t give into.

“You need more, eh?” he whispers. He slides one hand down your stomach, between your legs to rub slow circles around your clit. Your hips buck, and he pounds his cock in hard, smoothing his other hand up to gently get a feel of your breasts, giving them the kiss of a massage as he returns to his rocking motions. It gives you waves of building pleasure each time he thrusts, but not enough to take you any higher. You crave his unruly side, but his self control seems to be winning out at the moment. You grind back to adjust your position, and Papa’s cockhead slides right against your g-spot.

"I'm gonna c-- uh!" Gasping and scrambling one hand back to grab for his robes, you try to stifle the cry that rips from your throat. Unfortunately, the slide of his thick cock stretching you makes you moan far louder than you should. At least five Siblings and two ghouls working on maintaining the grounds glance around for the source of the startling noise. Your cheeks heat up. One Brother makes eye contact with you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Despite the awful embarrassment, you're considerably surprised to discover you've only grown more aroused from being seen like this.

_Si. They know who you belong to. They can see you getting used like my precious toy. That's what you are... so, so dear to me._

After this resounding reaction out of you, Papa angles himself upward to keep hammering into your sweet spot, each deep, heavy thrust of his hips rubbing you against the railing. You can tell Papa is giving it his all— you've never been this loud when he's taken you before, and of course you had to be when you were within earshot of at least 30 people.

Your clit gives a throb as you grind perfectly against the cool stone, and you shudder against him. The soft sigh that falls from your lips makes his breath hitch in his throat. Papa's not teasing any longer— now, he wants to put on a show for those below who have noticed him taking what's his.

 _Perhaps the masses will no longer know me as the harmless old man, hm?_ his voice growls in your mind. Each sound that reverberates through you feels like a burst of euphoria. _My brothers are the virile ones, they think. Emeritus II, sprightly for his age they say, and Emeritus III, gifted in many ways. They fuck their share of disciples, spreading their seed through our congregation._ You want to reassure him, but you can’t possibly think. In his moment of passion, his frustration comes out as he fucks you harder, deeper.

 _But I am not to be overlooked, nor outdone,_ he goes on _. Perhaps they will see me taking a beautiful thing like you, my one and only, gripping you and using you. A sight both terrifying as my paint and beautiful. Perhaps they will now remember the power of the Papa who started it all._

He gives one final thrust, and you cry out his name. If there were some in the courtyard who didn't see or hear you before, they have now. His pace becomes fevered behind you, and in the throes of passion, he takes you by the hair, pulling you back and sucking a deep love mark into your neck as his spindly fingers curl around your chin.

"They may watch, but this world of pleasure is our own, dolce," he rasps. You keen back into him, and your orgasm washes over you as he fucks you through it. Papa's fingers tighten around your jaw, and his pace increases to a frightening intensity. His almost monstrous growl makes you moan louder for him, almost oblivious to all those mouths agape below. Some turn away in embarrassment, others watch in awe. The ghouls seem to be lusting after the sight, if their flicking tails are any indication. Papa pushes deep inside you, unashamedly groaning for all to hear how you make him feel. “You look divine. Let them gaze upon the seductress who has bewitched a Papa’s heart. What influence you hold... but not for long, hm? Be good for Papa. Scream your pleasure.” 

You feel your own pride take over, and boast the last of your finish with a desperate gasp before crumpling back into Papa's arms. He grunts urgently as you feel him empty himself inside of you in bursts, then descends from his climax with gasping breaths of reverence. He kisses your face with adverse docility, as if he's nursing a wounded bird back to health. You reach back to stroke his face, and he sighs. 

"Ahh. Look at the gardens," he breathes. "Almost as wonderful as you.”

“That’s an old line, Papa,” you tease. He turns you around to gaze lovingly at you, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes.

“Do you still blush when I say it to you?” he smiles, the happiness in his upturned mouth creeping up to those eyes, frost melting from them. “Or are you immune to my charm now?”

“Never,” you lay your head against his chest to listen to his heart, quickly beating still from moments ago. “Especially not after a surprise like that.”

“However will you face your peers again after they have seen you this way?” Papa smirks.

“Like you said. Here, we sin. It’s celebrated. I’m proud they know. I’m proud everyone does.” You giggle. “And I’m happy the word will finally carry to your brother.” Primo raises a curious eyebrow.

“Oh?”

You go on, nodding. “Oh, The Second vies for my affection on the daily. I never really had the chance to tell him I’m spoken for.”

“Perhaps I will,” he growls, knuckles cracking as he tightens a fist by his side.

“Don’t be hard on him, Papa,” you laugh. “He’s used to harems, and sharing of the body. Once he hears you fucked me on the west terrace, he’ll get the message.”

“Hm. Si. We must count our blessings that it is not Terzo after you.” Speak of the devil, the debonair Third Emeritus approaches from behind with a flourish.

“Ah! Fratello, Sister!” He gives you both a short bow in greeting, and invites himself out to lean beside you both. He takes out a gilded case and plucks it open. “Lovely day!”

“It is,” Primo deadpans. The two of you wait expectantly for him to gather that you’re having a private moment out here. Oblivious to both of yours’ social cues as ever, he flicks his zippo and lights up one of his cigarettes.

“Do you know, all the hot water was turned off in my shower this morning?” he prattled on. “You can imagine the surprise of the Sister I was with! One minute she is staring a beast in the eye, and the next, it was retreating back into its cloak!”

You crinkle your nose. You really didn’t need that mental image from your lover’s younger brother. Primo sighs, glancing at you.

“We will go now I think, back to my suite.” Terzo watches his brother adjust himself under his chasuble. He frowns as he also sees you fix your habit, wiggle your legs a bit and tug something up. His eyes grow wide, and he chokes on his next puff of smoke.

“Merda! I interrupted something good, eh!?”

“A groundbreaking conclusion, brother,” Primo glares at him. “What led you to this discovery?”

“Ah, ah, no need to get _snippy_. I am proud of you! You are not known to fuck so frivolously, fratello!” Terzo winks your way, but you raise your eyebrows.

“You’d be surprised. Primo could write a handbook on this.” Terzo watches in awe as Papa holds out his arm, and you take it with a small smile. Contented, you hear Papa’s voice in your head as you walk away.

_You stand up for me so readily._

_You’re my Papa. Of course I do,_ you think back.

_Did you see the look on his face?_

_I’ll never forget it._

Primo chuckles. “I am certain he has done the same as we have. Nothing new for him.”

“And I’m certain you’ve done worse in your day,” you tease. He hums, patting his hand over yours. It’s a gentle gesture compared to the passion he had shown you.

“I would say _better_ , dolce. Much better. But never have I had such adventures, than the ones I’ve had with you.”


End file.
